


Why?

by JustaVeryCuddlyPerson



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Edited again, Edited slightly, Gen, I always get that mixed up for some reason, I said Vapereon instead of Jolteon, I wanted to show a more serious side to spark, Spark-centric, and thanks for all the people who've read it!, and the ones that have kudos'd!, fixed it now, it doesn't work the same without the italicisation, oh well, sigh, slightly inspired by my friend, so now I'm left with capitalisation as a last resort, some of these words were italicised damnit, though mostly through fan art and a random idea that came to mind midway through, whoopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7864990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustaVeryCuddlyPerson/pseuds/JustaVeryCuddlyPerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spark, in a surge of melancholy, reflects on why he made Team Instinct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why?

**Author's Note:**

> Heya~! So, thanks for clicking on my fanfic! Hopefully you'll enjoy it. This is my first time writing something that isn't a poem in fictional format, so feedback is welcome!
> 
> I'm aware it probably comes off as a tad cheesy, but hey, I tried. Can't do more than that. Plus I got a random fic idea and it flows how it flows * Le shrug. I'm self aware enough to know this is not a masterpiece.

Some nights, Spark goes outside, sits in the grass, and stares as the sky, at all the stars within it, his Jolteon loyally by his side, and wonders why he created Team Instinct.

It was a sad, melancholy mood that had gripped him, as surely as he gripped his own legs, leaning back to look at all the stars in contemplation, there but not. And really, why did he do it? It did nothing to stave off his loneliness, or help ease all his insecurities that much, and sometimes he thinks people forget that- that beneath the dorky, cheery, somewhat shit stirring exterior, he had sadness too. His own problems and fuck ups to think about when the sky got dark and they all went to bed, to forget until another day.

Not him. Not these nights.

These nights, he sat, staring up at the sky until dawn breached the horizon in its first dim rays of sunlight, and went through the day bleary and chugging down his coffee- a quirk he often blamed on enthusiasm for a new egg that was hatching, that was sure to hatch soon. And the real kicker? No one questioned him on it.

Although, that was unfair, he supposed. Sometimes he really did sit up late, watching intrepidly for the first few cracks that may occur- after all, just because his quirkiness was an exterior, didn't mean he didn't genuinely feel it, that it wasn't him- it was just that sometimes his darker sides caught up to him, and he was left staring at the sky. Sometimes, he thought Blanche knew- she'd give him a glance,out the corner of her eye- and leave it at that, for which he was thankful- she knew he'd come when he was ready, but it wasn't quite that time yet.

Not yet- but some day.

For now, he took refuge in all that black- reflected from and within him, and saw the few sparkles of light. It really could incite philosophical discussion if one really thought about it, deep intertwining layers of symbolism no doubt lying somewhere in the darkness- but for now he couldn't find it within himself to puzzle it out. Perhaps another time, in one of his cheerier moods, he'd look at it and contemplate the many tangled vines of the universe rather than the ones that squeezed at his own heart.

But there were flowers there too, and really, was that not why one did things in life? Vines were everywhere, but you had to make flowers of it, or you'd be left with nothing but the thorns.

He thought on all the flowers.

He thought of Blanche, meeting her and Candela, and finding fast friends in them, even if they did compete at times.

He thought of all the recruits he'd gotten, happy to find a place, whether they belonged there or found their home in the people around them.

And he thought of his Jolteon, Harry Spike- the result of a naming indecision- and how he first caught his little companion. The happiness it gave him to run a hand through her fur, as he did now, smiling softly at his evolved eevee's preening.

Yeah, it wasn't so bad, he thought. The squeezing of the vines would catch up eventually, as they always did, but he'd made some flowers for himself, to save him from the darkness when it became too much- and really, isn't that all he could ask for? Isn't that why he made Team Instinct? To be a shining light in the dark? Whether that light be within yourself or the outside world, it would always be found, if you looked.

Damn he was a mushy sod.

Sometimes, he retired worse off, swallowed by melancholy gaping maws.

But other times- like this one- he retired with a gentle smile on his face, looking fondly down at his Jolteon as he held open the sliding door, and welcomed the day with a slightly mushy mood and small, heartfelt smiles for everyone throughout the day.

He hoped these smiles were someone else's light. He'd been told they were quite endearing by Candela once.

Of course, he'd responded with a custom long, slow stroke of his hand through the air, running along the length of his body, before asking 'What  _isn't?_ It's _me_ after all,' with salacious grin and and a playful flash in his eyes.

He distinctly remembers Blanche (who happened to be walking past at the time) trip and choke on her coffee.

Yeah, he was a melancholy ass at times, but find him one sorry sod who didn't drown in their own personal poison from time to time.

Heck, he's seriously considered nicknaming his little sessions Poison Camp.

...Maybe he should make a sign by his spot. But after the egg hatched- he was pretty sure it was another pidgey.

Damn he loves pidgeys.

(All Pokemon really, but there was something special about watching a pidgey hatch for him. His first Pokemon he'd hatched had been a pidgey, after all, and they'd held a special fondness in his heart ever since. Good old Pidgo was as easily distracted as he was, and that was saying something.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Glad people seem to be enjoying this! Just a note though, if any of you know how to do italicisation in works you would be my saviour. Capitalisation just doesn't allow works to flow the same way as italicising does.


End file.
